(Above) Last summer, a group of young adults from the Canada and Bermuda Tty travelled to Brazil for a mission trip as part of OTHERS Ministries for Justice, led by Lt Mirna Dirani. They joined with young Salvationists from across Brazil to serve in ministry in four cities. Here, a group engages in creative outreach in Santa Maria, sparking curiosity with a spin wheel offering prayer, small gifts or fun dares. The signs say, “Can I pray for you?” (Photo: Lieutenant Mirna Dirani)

This is the first article in a new series on mission, justice and The Salvation Army. 

In 2017, I applied for a position at a Salvation Army emergency shelter. What caught my attention wasn’t the job description, it was the mission statement: “The Salvation Army exists to share the love of Jesus Christ, meet human needs and be a transforming influence in the communities of our world.”

That single sentence stirred something profound in me. It was bold. It was clear. It was unapologetically centred on Jesus. After nearly a decade of serving in the non-profit world, I yearned to work in a place where I could serve people and freely speak the name of Jesus. Finding an organization that did both—and declared it so courageously—felt like an answered prayer.

As I began to learn more about The Salvation Army’s history, I quickly realized that this wasn’t just another charity. This was a movement that beat with the heart of God—a rhythm of justice, mercy and humility. Worship wasn’t limited to singing songs inside a church building; it was expressed through service to those most in need. 

No one was beyond reach. No one was too far gone. The early Salvationists truly believed the gospel was for whosoever.

What impressed me most was their creativity in sharing the gospel. They used every tool available—art, music, theatre and even emerging technologies—to reach people where they were. When others feared new inventions, they saw opportunity. As film and projection technology emerged in the early 1900s, Bramwell Booth, General William Booth’s son, reportedly said, “If the devil can use it for evil, we can use it for good and for the glory of God.”

It didn’t matter how unconventional the method, as long as Jesus was at the centre and the mission remained clear: to bring hope to the most vulnerable, the poor and the broken. 

A Church for the Streets

When William Booth first walked the streets of East London, England, and saw the desperate poverty, addiction and hopelessness that gripped its people, something changed in him. After witnessing the suffering outside the church doors, he returned home to Catherine and said, “Darling, I have found my destiny.”

That moment marked the beginning of a movement—not another church, but a church for the streets. Booth understood that the true mission of the gospel wasn’t to draw lines around who belonged inside, but to bring light into the places most people avoided. He once said, “While women weep, as they do now, I’ll fight. While little children go hungry, as they do now, I’ll fight ... While there remains one dark soul without the light of God, I’ll fight—I’ll fight to the very end.” 

That conviction—that justice and mercy are the mission—still burns at the core of The Salvation Army’s calling. 

Mission Drift

After several years of working in Salvation Army social services, I transitioned into full-time ministry as an officer. In that shift, I noticed a gap—a quiet drift—between the two sides of the same movement: our social and spiritual ministries.

The Salvation Army was founded to serve both worlds—body and soul—but over time, they can feel disconnected. Our corps can become consumed with maintaining programs, buildings and schedules. At the same time, our social service ministries often carry the load of engaging the community.

If William Booth walked into one of our corps today, what would he see? Would he stay and bring the poor and the needy in—or would he once again walk out in search of the lost?

It’s a confronting question. We can get so focused on being the church that we forget to be on mission. Booth never set out to build a new denomination; he set out to start a movement of action—one that would shake the status quo and reach the margins through creative evangelism and practical love.

He didn’t aim to please people; he aimed to build God’s kingdom—one meal, one life, one act of compassion at a time, remembering Jesus’ words: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). 

Vision of the Lost

Published in The War Cry in 1885, Booth’s famous “Vision of the Lost” still challenges us today. In his vision, he saw a dark sea filled with drowning souls crying for help. On a large rock above, the people who had already been rescued were safe—busy singing, debating theology and building their own comfort—while countless others perished below.

A few courageous ones dove back into the sea to rescue the lost. And there, in the waters, was Jesus—calling his followers to join him. That’s the question we each must face: Do you have the courage to jump into the sea where Jesus is calling you?

It’s not comfortable. It’s not easy. The water is deep and unpredictable. But here’s the good news: God never asked us to be fearless—only faithful. He doesn’t need our strength; he asks for our surrender, as the Apostle Paul found: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Justice begins the moment we stop standing safely on the shore and start stepping into the deep places where Jesus already is.

Justice Is Mission

Justice isn’t an add-on to our ministry; it’s the very essence of it. It is when we leave the 99 and pursue the one who is lost.

When a meal is served with dignity—that’s justice. When a child finds safety after abuse—that’s justice. When a congregation opens its doors to the outcast—that’s justice. 

Every act of compassion plants a seed of God’s justice in the world. But justice isn’t just doing good—it’s doing God’s good. It’s joining him where he’s already restoring what’s broken.

That’s why we need the Holy Spirit. Without him, justice becomes performance. With him, it becomes worship.

A Call to Return

The early Salvationists were known for their courage to go where others would not—preaching in the streets, singing in taverns, loving the forgotten. They were misunderstood, mocked and even beaten. But they burned with holy conviction that no one was too lost for grace.

Maybe it’s time we return to that kind of faith—the bold, messy, Spirit-led kind of love that steps out of comfort zones and into the streets. Justice is mission. It’s why we exist. It’s not a department or a project—it’s the heartbeat of who we are. If we long for revival, it won’t come from looking more like tradition or the world; it will come from looking more like Jesus.

So, here’s the invitation: Step off the rock. Jump into the sea. Join him where he already is— among the lost, the lonely and the hurting. Because the same Spirit that sent Booth into the streets is sending us still. 

Reflection Questions

1. If William Booth visited your corps today, what would he see? 
2. Where might God be calling you to “jump into the sea”? 
3. How can you rely more deeply on the Holy Spirit in your daily ministry? 

Lieutenant Mirna Dirani is the resource officer—immigrant and refugee services at Toronto Harbour Light Ministries.